


and after the spanking, the oral sex

by lizifer



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Praise Kink, Spanking, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 18:10:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19892137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizifer/pseuds/lizifer
Summary: Does what it says on the tin.Crowley wants to be spanked.





	and after the spanking, the oral sex

Crowley had been listing precariously to the left for some time and would soon be more in Aziraphale's lap than anywhere else on the sofa. 

Which, Aziraphale reflected, would be rather nice. He might stroke Crowley's hair, and then Crowley would pull him into a kiss, and after that... well. 

"Was that one yours or ours?" Crowley asked abruptly, waggling his fingers in the direction of the television screen.

Aziraphale frowned, and looked from the screen to Crowley and back again. He paused, to see if a few more seconds made the meaning of the question apparent. No luck. "Monty Python? I don't know why they would be eith-"

"No, no," Crowley interrupted, with the hint of a growl in his voice. "The- the self... Seflaggl- self-flaggw-" The consonants seemed to strangle themselves on Crowley's tongue and the word perished. Clearly giving up, Crowley mimed hitting himself in the head with a board, and followed up with a backwards flick of the wrist and a clawed gesture that evoked the crack and impact of a whip on his own back. "That thing," Crowley concluded, as Aziraphale winced. 

“Oh. Self-flagellation, dear.” Aziraphale thought a moment. “I don’t believe it was ours. All that pain, it doesn’t seem holy. More cruel than good, really.” But then, there were an awful lot of things that Heaven had done that had been on the cruel side... poor Job. 

“Hmmm.” 

At that moment, the angle Crowley was leaning at became unsustainable and he thumped onto Aziraphale’s lap, and Crowley wriggled about until he was more or less comfortable. 

“I don’t think it was ours, either. Seems counterproductive.” 

Aziraphale allowed himself a moment to admire Crowley’s long legs, one along the couch and the other foot still on the floor. 

They returned their attention to the film, and after a moment or two of silence, Aziraphale also allowed himself to gently touch Crowley’s hair. Crowley made a soft sound, a gentle one that Aziraphale hadn’t known he was capable of until recently. Aziraphale did so enjoy finding new ways to draw it from him.

“But,” Crowley said eventually, his tone so deliberately casual that Aziraphale knew he was anything but-- "not all pain is bad, is it now?”

"I suppose not," Aziraphale agreed thoughtfully, combing his fingers through Crowley's hair and caressing the shell of his ear with his thumb. Crowley tilted slightly into the touches, as responsive as ever. "Some types of pain bring- bring growth. And there's childbirth, of course."

"I'm sure that's a design flaw, not a punishment," Crowley mused, and Aziraphale braced himself to dive back into the centuries-old argument. Not that he _agreed_ with the punishment for eating the apple. And they'd been having such a _nice_ time! 

But much to his surprise, Crowley dropped it there, going quiet again, readjusting his sunglasses when Aziraphale's stroking fingers nudged them askew.

"Not just what comes after the pain," Crowley said, his head still turned to the screen, as the minstrels tormented poor Sir Robin. "But pain itself could be plea- ni-" Aziraphale glanced down at Crowley. His expression hadn't changed, but there was the barest hint of a flush to his ears, and wasn't that interesting?

"Can be good," Crowley concluded, his voice a bit distracted, as though he'd had nineteen other thoughts in the midst of his sentence and lost his way a bit. 

He was fidgeting, one arm stretched above his head and fingers tapping restlessly on the arm of the couch. 

"Not for everyone, surely," Aziraphale replied, almost absently, watching Crowley's fingers. He had to fight back a smile; Crowley always seemed to think that he was subtle when he did this. But he was too easy to read.

In large print, even.

"No," Crowley agreed, abruptly sitting up and moving to lean his back against the other arm of the sofa instead. Aziraphale nearly felt offended, but then Crowley tucked a socked foot under Aziraphale's thigh, his knee bent. "Not everyone. But some people like it." Crowley paused, swallowed, and then added rather quickly, "I've heard."

"You've heard," Aziraphale repeated, slowly. It was difficult now not to tease overtly, to give the game away. He turned slightly to face Crowley, just a touch. Drawn to him, as always. As ever. "I see." 

Crowley was watching him over his glasses, head tilted forward, stretching an arm along the back of the sofa. He put his other leg across Aziraphale's lap and Aziraphale waited several long, heavy seconds, before he settled a hand on Crowley's knee.

Crowley turned back towards the film, and swallowed.

Aziraphale waited, as patient as can be. He wouldn’t have to wait long.

“Of course...” Crowley started, stretching the word out, shifting a little in place. “It’s not really the same if you do it _yourself_.”

And there it was. Most of it, the shape of Crowley's want nearly laid bare. 

"Isn't it?" Aziraphale said, and held his breath as if waiting for a small animal to walk into his sprung trap.

Crowley growled, and Aziraphale had to cover his mouth to hide his smile, eyebrows raised innocently. 

“That’s what I said, are you even _listening to me_ , angel-” Crowley cut himself off as the women on the screen all begin clamouring for a spanking.

With an air of agitated triumph, Crowley gestured at the telly, hands spread and palms upward, as if to say _See? I told you_. His eyebrows were arched above his dark glasses. _Do you understand now_ , Crowley’s gaze said.

“What’s your point?” Aziraphale let himself relax more into the sofa, in contrast to the infuriated tension that was driving Crowley to pull his arms in towards himself, fingers twitching, folding up.

“My _point_ -!” 

“Yes, your point.”

Crowley stared, his mouth working, starting words without getting any further than the first syllable. And then finally, finally, out it came, all in a rush, leaving no breathing room between the words: “I want you to sspank me.”

As soon as the words were out, Crowley was moving, perching himself on the arm of the sofa, arms crossed. His face was pink, shoulders hunched up, glaring at Aziraphale, who knew better than to laugh.

“You do.” It wasn’t a question this time, was a confirmation, agreement, but Crowley scowled.

“I’m not saying it again.You’re a bloody-minded bastard, you know.”

Now Aziraphale laughed, holding out a hand. “I know, love. Come here.”

Crowley did, making his long-limbed way back across the couch, straddling Aziraphale’s lap, where Aziraphale cupped his face and kissed the frown away, kissed him breathless.

Crowley’s hands were clutching at him, and when they pulled apart to breathe, he murmured, “Will you?” and the need and the hope in his voice were so lovely, so beautiful, Aziraphale could hardly stand it. He removed Crowley’s sunglasses, stroked a thumb over his cheekbone. 

“Yes.” Aziraphale stopped there, one hand wound in Crowley’s hair, pulling him in for another kiss. Crowley always got awkward when Aziraphale said things like _For you, always. For you, anything_ and Aziraphale tried to spare him the embarrassment as much as possible, but he did his best to express the feeling in his touch, in his kiss. (There were, of course, times when he was overwhelmed with love and fondness and couldn’t quite help himself, but he _tried_.)

Eventually, they again broke the kiss and Aziraphale urged Crowley up, out of his lap. Crowley made a face, a whine of frustration in his throat that sent a spike of heat through Aziraphale. “To bed,” Aziraphale urged, standing. 

“Right. Bed. Good,” Crowley agreed, nodding jerkily. He swallowed, nodded again, took a step backwards. He snapped his fingers and the telly turned off, and then he pivoted and began making his way towards Aziraphale’s bedroom. 

Aziraphale followed, taking Crowley’s hand when Crowley reached back for him.

When they reached their destination, Crowley turned to face Aziraphale, and reached for him again. Crowley cupped his face, fingertips just resting against Aziraphale's jaw, drawing him in for a kiss. It was gentle and tender and made Aziraphale make a soft noise into Crowley's mouth. 

Unable to resist, Aziraphale slid an arm around Crowley's narrow waist and held him close for just a bit longer....

But Crowley couldn't remain still, and stepped backwards, towards the bed, out of Aziraphale's arms. Aziraphale stopped him from going any further by gently grasping Crowley's sleeve. "Out of these clothes, first." He let go of Crowley and stepped around him to sit on the edge of the bed. 

Crowley spread his arms, palms up, inviting. "Aren't you going to help?"

Aziraphale pretended to think about it. "No." He folded his hands in his lap and watched, expectantly. 

There was a moment where Aziraphale thought Crowley might argue from the way his mouth opened, the tip of his tongue pressed against the inside of his lower lip. 

And then instead, Crowley bustled into motion, shrugging off his jacket, unbuttoning his shirt. He muttered something that ended with "so help me," under his breath, but his ears were going redder and the flush was spreading down his neck. 

Aziraphale watched Crowley disrobe with open admiration, murmuring "lovely," as much for the truth of it (all that fair, unmarked skin, the long limbs and flat torso) as for the way that Crowley's fluid movements went jerky and clumsy. 

Crowley got his trousers down his thighs with a showy little wiggle of his hips that was rather enticing -- at least, until he tried to step out of them and his feet got tangled up in the slim legs. 

Cursing, Crowley hopped about, trying to free himself without losing his balance before apparently giving up and getting rid of the last of his clothing with an exasperated snap of his fingers.

“Very good,” Aziraphale said, his voice a low rumble now. He shifted slightly in place, spreading his knees, patting his lap. "I'll give you what you’re wanting.” 

Swallowing, Crowley did as he was told, draping himself over Aziraphale’s lap. He was strangely quiet, but he shuddered as Aziraphale drew light fingers down the prominence of his spine.

“If you ask me to stop, I will,” Aziraphale said gently, and Crowley nodded.

“I know,” he croaked, his voice sounding strained. Tone now edging towards impatient, Crowley added, “Look, get on with it, wi-" but ended with a gasp as Aziraphale brought his hand down with a sharp slap.

Crowley held very _very_ still, and Aziraphale did it again, a little harder this time, experimental. The sound Crowley made was low, rumbled in his throat. It stoked something deep in Aziraphale's belly, a heat that wound through him, tightening with each little reaction.

And _oh_ , Crowley was perfect like this, sprawled over Aziraphale's knees, squirming slightly, his bottom already starting to go red. Aziraphale smacked him again, the sound of it loud in the room, a contrast to the choked sound Crowley made. 

"Beautiful, you're gorgeous like this," Aziraphale said, continuing on. His voice came out rougher than he expected, and he swallowed hard. 

Crowley moaned, sounding lost. 

Aziraphale's palm was starting to tingle, and Crowley was shifting his hips, abortive little movements that he couldn't seem to help. Aziraphale took a shaky breath, spreading his unoccupied hand out over Crowley's shoulder blade, soothing and firm, holding him in place.

This time Aziraphale brought his hand down hard on the back of one pale thigh and Crowley outright _whimpered_. 

"G-" Crowley began, voice sounding ruined. Aziraphale closed his eyes for a moment, hot all over. He regretted keeping all his own clothes on. "Sat- Aziraphale, do that again."

Aziraphale did, twice more in the same spot and then the other thigh to match, eyes on Crowley.

Crowley was panting now, and Aziraphale couldn't make himself wait a moment longer. "Enough," he said, and Crowley nodded. "Come here, my dear."

Aziraphale shifted back on the bed and soon had a lapful of squirming, naked Crowley. "Angel, oh, Aziraphale," Crowley murmured, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale, fingers curling in his shirt. Aziraphale slid one hand up Crowley's back, along his neck to the back of his head, directing Crowley's mouth against his for a kiss.

With his other hand, Aziraphale took hold of Crowley's cock, feeling it throb in his grip. Crowley gasped into the kiss, his hips rolling. 

"Darling," Azirphale said into Crowley's mouth, then pulled back just slightly to continue, "I'm too warm, can you-" and Crowley's hands were on his tie before Aziraphale could finish, loosening, going to the buttons, fingers fumbling as he worked the shirt and waistcoat open. 

All the while, Aziraphale stroked Crowley, tight and sure, just the way Crowley liked it best. 

Crowley's long fingers finally found bare skin, and Aziraphale sighed, pleased. Finished with his task, Crowley bent to press ardent kisses to Azirphale's neck, teeth and tongue and lips and relentless heat. 

"Crowley, love," Aziraphale murmured, closing his eyes, tilting his head back. "Come for me, you did so well," he encouraged, savouring the way Crowley shuddered against him. 

"Yes, yes," Crowley panted against Aziraphale's skin, tensing. He spilled over Aziraphale's fingers with a high wounded sound, teeth scraping over a particularly sensitive spot. Azirphale gasped in turn, his own cock throbbing in his trousers.

When he was finished Crowley pressed even more against him through some method Aziraphale couldn't understand, compressing his spine in order to be as close as possible, to be held.

Aziraphale obliged him, an arm around his back and clean hand petting Crowley's hair, telling him quietly how dear he was, how lovely he'd been.

Aziraphale's fingers were trembling.

"Right," Crowley said, his voice a bit raw, and slid his way off Azirphale's lap to kneel at his feet. "Your turn."

Gently, Crowley pushed Aziraphale's thighs further apart and moved in closer, clever fingers unbuttoning and unzipping, freeing Aziraphale's aching cock. 

Crowley wrapped a hand around it, grinning up at Aziraphale. He rubbed his thumb against that spot under the head and Aziraphale shuddered all over. 

"Don't tease, now," Aziraphale scolded, or tried to. He suspected the effect was ruined by the way he was curling his fingers in the bed linens and breathing harder. 

Crowley made a face like he was thinking about teasing anyway, stroking Aziraphale's cock loosely, but his cheeks had a hectic flush and he swallowed hard at the low groan Aziraphale let out.

Aziraphale sighed in relief as Crowley took him in, closing his eyes at the feel of that nimble tongue doing something positively wicked. He curled a hand in Crowley's hair, tugging gently.

Crowley made a soft sound that sent another pulse of heat through Aziraphale, right down to his toes. He looked down at Crowley, who was intent, eyes closed as he pulled back again, pink lips dragging in a way that felt exquisite. 

"You- you," Aziraphale said, panting, having difficulty getting hold of the rest of the sentence with Crowley diligently sucking his higher brain functions out through his cock. "Feels incredible, you're so good to me."

This time, the sound Crowley made was anything but soft, it was full of heat and _need_ and it would almost have been rude for Aziraphale _not_ to come.

His fingers tightened in Crowley's hair as he pulsed against Crowley's tongue, gasping, his head tilting back. Crowley swallowed, and eventually pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

After taking some time to catch his breath, Aziraphale said, "I don't understand how you can manage to look smug while you do that."

"'S a secret. Won't tell."

"Come back up here." 

Agreeably, Crowley did. Aziraphale shrugged out of his waistcoat and shirt, Crowley miracled away the mess, and they settled in the middle of the bed. 

Crowley tangled himself around Aziraphale until he was resting with his cheek pillowed where he could hear the thump of Aziraphale's heart.

Aziraphale hummed and reached for the book he kept nearby for when Crowley didn't want to nap alone, opening it with one hand and stroking idle patterns over Crowley's arm and shoulder with the other.

"Thank you, angel," Crowley said drowsily some time later.

"You're welcome, love," Aziraphale replied. "Thank _you_. For sharing." He closed the book, marking his place with his thumb, and pressed a kiss into Crowley's hair. 

Crowley squirmed and shifted a bit before settling again. "Yes, well," he muttered, "don't get used to it."

**Author's Note:**

> How badly I would like to get my hands into Crowley's hair may have bled through in this, a bit. 
> 
> Thank you to my Anne for the help!
> 
> [Come chat on tumblr!](variousnightwoods.tumblr.com)


End file.
